


the fifth season (two of us, perennial)

by moonrise31



Series: once, twice, and again until it's over [29]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, ft 2yeon, i want more&more ot9, there is some light stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrise31/pseuds/moonrise31
Summary: In which Dahyun wants to reclaim her throne, Mina wants to save her forest, and Jihyo wants to do anything and everything to make it all happen.(Alternatively: in which Jihyo faces ecological destruction, kingdom politics, and forest nymphs who should have no business with the matters of her heart.)
Relationships: Myoui Mina/Park Jisoo | Jihyo
Series: once, twice, and again until it's over [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/935700
Comments: 7
Kudos: 101
Collections: You Are My Dream





	the fifth season (two of us, perennial)

**Author's Note:**

> Covers both the "five" and "dream" prompts for TFG volume 2's "You Are My Dream" fic collection
> 
> "the fifth season" portion of the title is stolen from oh my girl's title track of the same name

**I. Autumn**

(Three months after what they guessed was Jihyo’s tenth birthday, Jeongyeon opened the door in the middle of the night to Nayeon completely drenched head to toe from the thunderclouds above. 

“Nayeon?” Jeongyeon immediately ushered her inside. “What are you doing here?” 

Jihyo also rushed over, momentarily abandoning the tub catching the rainwater steadily streaming from the gaping hole in the roof of the orphanage. As Nayeon shuffled inside, a trembling girl who looked even smaller than eight-year-old Tzuyu peeked out from the sodden folds of her cloak. 

Jeongyeon’s eyes widened. “She’s not --”

“This is not the princess,” said Nayeon quickly. Jeongyeon gave Nayeon her most skeptical look yet, but left the room in search of dry clothes instead of pressing further. Jihyo, meanwhile, stepped closer, trying to get a better look at the strange girl Nayeon had brought with her. Nayeon raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

Jihyo crossed her arms. “I’m big enough now to stay up if I want to.”

Nayeon laughed, damp hand reaching out to ruffle Jihyo’s hair. “Right, you are. Your tub is almost full, though.”

Jihyo turned to see that Nayeon was telling the truth, and ran back to the corner to tug the full tub out of the way and replace it with an empty one. By the time she finished dumping the rainwater outside, Jeongyeon had returned with a stack of towels and blankets. “I can’t believe you brought her here,” she hissed as she threw a towel in Nayeon’s face. “How do you expect us, of all people, to be able to hide the royal family’s only child?”

“This is not the princess,” Nayeon said, again. She snatched the other towel from Jeongyeon’s hands and draped it gently around the not-princess’s shoulders. “The princess is the bundle of linen I laid down to burn with the bodies of her parents -- may they rest in peace. This,” Nayeon stopped to brush aside the last of the wet strands covering the pale girl’s shivering cheeks, “is Dahyun. Just Dahyun.”

Jeongyeon pressed her lips into a thin, whitened line, but said nothing more.

Nayeon and Dahyun stayed as close to the fire as they could, waiting for the heat to banish the chill from the stormwater that had soaked them to the skin. Jihyo busied herself with the tubs again, running back and forth to switch them every few minutes. When she could, she snuck glances at Dahyun, who didn’t seem at all like the princess Jihyo had always imagined. Instead of carrying a glittering crown and regal poise, Dahyun’s frame drowned in Jihyo’s spare shirt, curling into Nayeon’s side until Jihyo was sure the older girl’s shadow would swallow her completely.

“Jihyo,” Nayeon said after a beat. “You can’t tell anyone about this, alright? Not even the other kids. Only you, me, and Jeongyeon know.” She ran a hand through Dahyun’s damp hair. “And you can’t tell anyone, either, Dahyun. You can do that for me, right?” 

Dahyun only gave a wordless nod, but Jeongyeon readily broke the silence. “What happened?”

Nayeon hesitated. Dahyun was clearly exhausted, eyelids heavy as she burrowed deeper into the blanket Jeongyeon had carefully wrapped around her. Nayeon waited until Dahyun’s head fell softly against her shoulder before turning to meet Jeongyeon’s expectant gaze. “Treachery.”

Jeongyeon’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“The king and queen -- may they rest in peace -- were poisoned,” said Nayeon lowly. “And the king’s brother was more than ready to take the throne. Dahyun was supposed to have had dinner with them, but her tutor changed plans suddenly and ordered a separate meal prepared for her during the lesson. If I hadn’t been there, or hadn’t discovered what had happened before he found out she was still alive, I --” Nayeon stopped, and Jihyo realized that she was shaking.

Jeongyeon shifted closer, reaching out to guide Nayeon’s head to rest in the crook of her neck. Her hand hovered, stroking Nayeon’s cheek softly before retreating. “You did well. We’ll take care of her.” She looked up. “Right, Jihyo?”

Jihyo nodded earnestly, settling down on Jeongyeon’s other side so the older girl could throw an arm around her shoulders. The steady pattering of raindrops in the tub behind them gradually slowed, and Jihyo dozed off without much further thought. 

When she started awake at dawn, the storm had gone, and so had Nayeon. In front of the glowing embers remaining in the fireplace, Dahyun slept still: cocooned in her blanket, her small fists curled tightly into the fabric. 

Jihyo decided then that if she was big enough to take care of a leak in the roof during the kingdom’s darkest thunderstorm, she was more than ready to protect Dahyun from the terrors that never quite stopped haunting the bags under Nayeon’s eyes.)

-

“It’s Tzuyu’s fourteenth birthday today,” Jeongyeon announces during breakfast. Tzuyu blinks at her from the other end of the long table all of them are gathered around, and Jeongyeon amends, “As close as we can figure, at any rate.” She claps her hands together. “So I think some apple pies are in order. What do you think?”

The younger children immediately cheer, and little Yeji waves her spoon so vigorously that a fleck of porridge flicks onto Jihyo’s arm. Jihyo laughs, wiping it off before joining Dahyun in calming down the ruckus. “Then you’ll need fresh fruit, right? I can go out and get some.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Dahyun says quickly, and Jihyo shoots her a look. Dahyun knows full well that she should be seen outside as little as possible; but it does happen to be a special occasion, and Jihyo plans to spend most of her time on the outskirts of town or in the forest, away from too many curious ears and eyes. 

“Alright,” says Jihyo, and sticks out her tongue in response to Jeongyeon’s exasperated sigh. “Don’t be such a worrywart. We’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?” She quickly gestures at Dahyun to leave the table. Jeongyeon relents, adding that she’ll need another packet of sugar, and reminds them to keep their eyes out for inexpensive rice at the market.

Minutes later, Jihyo and Dahyun step out of the orphanage, large woven baskets strapped to their backs and a small pouch of coins jingling quietly from Jihyo’s waist. They shuffle their way through the crowded streets, each step unsettling the thick layer of sawdust that has settled over the broken cobblestone. The air around them is thick with finer particles -- Dahyun coughs, pulling the handkerchief tied over her nose and mouth even higher, and Jihyo worries.

“The kingdom is in ruins,” Dahyun says, and Jihyo quickly nudges an elbow into her side to stop her before anyone else can hear. Still, Jihyo is hard-pressed to find anything but truth in Dahyun’s statement. Their town is not the only one that has fallen into the logging and woodworking industries since the new king came into power, and Jihyo wonders how many kilometers she would have to travel before she can see the sky without a sawdust filter to sting at her eyes.

Rice prices are up, so they leave the market with a few bags of sugar that they will have to remember to keep on a shelf only Tzuyu can reach. There are also plenty of fruit vendors, but Jihyo knows of a grove in the surrounding woods that should still remain blissfully oblivious to the dull thunk of axes and the devastation of a fresh clearing in the middle of a once proud forest.

Dahyun tugs down her handkerchief as soon as they’ve gone far enough past the treeline. The sawdust haze is much thinner in the woods, and she breathes in a lungful of fresher air. “Jihyo,” she says. “Every time I go into the town, it gets worse.” She kicks out, and the sawdust coating her shoe flies off in an emphatic cloud. 

“I know.” Jihyo shrugs off her basket and sets it down on the grass to roll out her shoulders. “At this rate, the forest will be gone before next year.” 

“This is no way to live,” Dahyun presses. “Soon, we won’t even be able to keep it out of our houses. Half the children can’t even play in the yard too long before they come back sneezing and coughing.”

“I know,” Jihyo cuts in. “But what can you do about it, Dahyun?” 

Dahyun falls quiet at that. 

Jihyo feels a twinge of guilt, so she quickly clears her throat. “Let’s just pick those apples, okay? I’ll take you to the best spot there is.”

Dahyun nods, and follows Jihyo through the undergrowth. It’s late into the year; the leaves rustling above them and crunching beneath their feet have taken on the fiery reds and yellows of autumn. Jihyo’s step quickens as they draw closer to the stand of apple trees she has in mind. There are plenty of other groves in the forest that they could have gone to, but this is the one she and Nayeon and Jeongyeon used to spend their days dashing around in -- until Nayeon went to the castle for work, and Jeongyeon had to take over the orphanage after their caretaker succumbed to illness.

Then Jihyo halts in her tracks; Dahyun runs into her not a moment later. “Sorry,” Dahyun says immediately, reaching up to rub where she’d collided with Jihyo’s shoulder. “Why did you stop?”

“It’s gone,” says Jihyo. She stares at the field of barren stumps, the grass below already smothered by a heavy blanket of settled sawdust. For the first time, the majestic mountains to the west are visible in the distance, and the sight of them fills her with viscous dread.

Dahyun’s hand reaches for Jihyo’s this time. But before she can begin to speak, something at the center of the devastated grove flashes a brilliant white. 

Jihyo jerks back and throws a hand in front of her, squeezing her eyes shut against the brightness. She flails blindly with her other arm to pull Dahyun close, and then spins the both of them around so their backs are to the clearing.

“How dare you return,” a voice cuts through the air behind them, “after you have already taken everything.”

Jihyo’s eyes snap open. She’s not sure what possesses her to look over her shoulder -- every nerve in her body is burning with the urge to run away as fast as possible. But there is something in the mystery of that voice, though promising only peril, that lures Jihyo into looking anyway.

She catches a glimpse of a small, angled face framed by hair more golden than the sun, and turns fully back around before she’s realized what she’s done. Dahyun squeaks, half-pulled into also facing the clearing by Jihyo’s arm still around her shoulders.

“Run, now.” The girl stands -- _floats_ \-- in the middle of the clearing, eyes alight with the dozen blazing shades of fallen leaves. “I will give you one more chance.”

“Wait,” Jihyo says quickly, throwing her hands up. Dahyun flinches, hesitating for just a second before doing the same. Jihyo regrets making eye contact with the girl, and looks off to the mountains instead. “We aren’t the ones who did this.”

The girl doesn’t say anything. Jihyo’s burning curiosity eventually bests her, and she chances a glance back again. The eyes that meet hers are still on fire, but Jihyo feels less of the heat that had first sent her most basic instincts screaming to flee.

“I love this orchard,” Jihyo continues. She swallows the lump in her throat, and the phantom taste of apple pie slides thickly down with it. “I can’t believe the loggers have already come this far.”

“I know you,” the girl says suddenly. She slowly descends, bare feet touching down silently in the sawdust. “You used to come here with two others. They would help you climb the tallest tree, and then kiss each other when you weren’t looking.”

Jihyo rolls her eyes at the thought of Nayeon and Jeongyeon’s not-so-secret escapades. “They certainly believed I wasn’t looking.” She cautiously begins to lower her hands, but the girl makes no move except a watchful tilt of her head. Jihyo lets her shoulders sag. “What I would like to say is that I’m sad, too, that all of it is gone now.”

The girl’s gaze dims. “There is a terrible magic backing your loggers, and it is difficult for us to fight it.”

“‘Us’?” Dahyun blurts. She shrinks slightly behind Jihyo when the girl turns to stare at her instead. 

One corner of the girl’s mouth quirks up. “Yes, the spirits of this forest. Some call us nymphs, or sprites, or vilas.” Her eyes gleam again.

Somehow, it makes sense to Jihyo -- how else could this girl glow as if she is light itself, or hover in the air as if she weighs less than a feather, or have irises that speak of autumn? It’s certainly easier to wrap Jihyo’s mind around this than it is for her to imagine that Dahyun’s next statement will one day become reality.

“I’ll fix it,” says Dahyun suddenly, squaring her shoulders at the nymph that had undoubtedly almost erased them from the earth beneath their feet. “I’ll stop it all. And I’ll regrow this entire forest, and I’ll make the air so clear you’ll forget what sawdust ever smelled like.”

The nymph’s gaze burns warmly. “Are you magic as well?”

“No,” Dahyun says. She straightens, perhaps oblivious to the fact that she remains shorter than the nymph, even with her shoes on. “But I am Dahyun Kim, rightful heir to the throne of this kingdom, and this is the oath I swear to on my family’s seal and name.”

Jihyo stiffens. Her eyes immediately flick over to examine the nymph’s reaction; underneath her knee-jerk panic, Jihyo reasons that forest spirits would never burden themselves with something as transient and trivial as kingdom politics. But this is also the first time in six years that Jihyo has heard Dahyun’s true identity acknowledged out loud. The weight of the possible consequences shifts Jihyo to the balls of her feet, and her muscles tense as she waits.

“Is that so?” The nymph smiles and Jihyo relaxes, but her heart continues to flutter in an equally dangerous way. “It is a pleasure to meet you, then. You may call me Mina.” Mina dips her head, the movement more graceful than any castle curtsy Nayeon has ever shown Jihyo on her visits back to the orphanage. 

Dahyun stutters helplessly, cheeks pink. Jihyo would normally tease her for it, but this time she thinks she understands. Bravely, she steps forward. “I’m Jihyo.”

“I remember,” Mina says with another tilt of her head, and Jihyo’s mind blanks. The nymph’s fiery eyes are dancing now, embers playful as they flicker. Fortunately, she has mercy on Jihyo and turns to nod at Dahyun once more. “Then until you can make good on your promise, it would be my honor to present you with a gesture of goodwill.”

Jihyo’s basket suddenly pulls down at her shoulders. She shrugs off one of the straps and swings the basket around to her front. Her eyes widen at the pile of gleaming red apples inside. “Thank you,” Dahyun stammers beside her.

“You’re welcome,” says Mina lightly. “I hope that the day will come for me to thank you as well.” The clearing brightens, and in a moment of recklessness, Jihyo squints against the glare so that she can meet Mina’s firelight eyes one more time.

The apples are enough for Jeongyeon to make pies for the next ten birthday celebrations, but she saves most of them for preserves and other sweets. Jeongin and Yuna, being the absolute brats that Jihyo still loves dearly, start hugging everyone else with their sticky fingers while the dishes are being cleared. Jihyo chases them around the long table again and again, laughing even as she tries to scold them into behaving. 

Jihyo finally scoops up a squirming Yuna with some effort, growling fiercely as the little girl giggles in her face and Jeongin scurries away. Her stomach warms, from this and the care Jeongyeon had crimped into each crust, and from the sight of Tzuyu smiling through every mouthful. 

Jihyo thinks of autumn eyes and Dahyun’s fervent declaration, and decides that not every fire has to burn.

**II. Winter**

(By the time Jihyo was eleven, she was reading bedtime stories every night to the other children. Sometimes the longer words were still difficult, but Jeongyeon promised that she was getting better every day, and until she had it all figured out, Jihyo didn’t mind adding in embellishments of her own just to keep the plot fun.

“And they lived happily ever after.” Jihyo closed the book carefully, wary of the tattered cover and worn binding barely holding the dog-eared pages together.

Tzuyu pulled the blanket up closer to her chin. “Do you think you’ll ever get to meet a fairy?”

Jihyo chuckled, setting the book in her lap before turning her attention to Tzuyu’s drooping eyelids. “It’s just a tale, Tzuyu. Fairies aren’t real.”

“They are,” said Tzuyu, tone straightforward even when laced with sleep. “A little birdie told me.”

“Sometimes birds tell fibs, too.” Jihyo reached out to brush aside some hair from the younger girl’s face. 

“Jihyo,” Tzuyu murmured through a large yawn, “when will Dahyun go back to the castle?”

Jihyo stilled, and then continued to stroke Tzuyu’s hair. “What do you mean? Dahyun will always be here, with us.”

“But she’s the princess,” Tzuyu said. “She should be in the castle, like in the story.”

Jihyo tried for a smile, even though Tzuyu’s eyelids had already fluttered shut. “Just because they share a name doesn’t mean that our Dahyun is the princess. A lot of children were named in her honor even before the sickness took both her and her parents.”

“Our Dahyun is the princess,” Tzuyu insisted. “I saw her birthmark once when we were washing, but I didn’t say anything because it looked like a secret.”

Jihyo pauses, and then let out the breath she’d been holding. “That’s because it is a secret, Tzu. So please don’t tell anyone, okay? Not even your animal friends.”

With some effort, Tzuyu forced her eyes open once more. Her bottom lip stuck out. “Why can’t I? No one else ever listens to them like I do.”

Jihyo reached out to rub a soothing hand over Tzuyu’s shoulder through the covers. “But someone else might listen to you, and that would be very, very bad for Dahyun, and for the rest of us.”

“Okay.” Tzuyu’s eyes closed again. “I still hope that Dahyun goes back to the castle, though. I talked to a cat yesterday, and she said that she saw the guards take my parents there. But there was a lot of yelling and hitting, so my mom and dad are probably really scared. Dahyun is nice, so she could go to the castle and bring them back, right?”

“Dahyun is very nice,” Jihyo agreed, lowering her voice in an attempt to coax Tzuyu into slumber. “But it’s more complicated than that. You’re very strong, Tzuyu, so I know that your parents must be, too. Don’t worry about them, okay?”

Tzuyu nodded, although her head barely moved as she began to drift off. “Okay.”

“Good night,” Jihyo whispered. She set the book on the side table and blew out the candle before slipping under the covers. In the hour before she finally fell asleep, all she could think about was how very few of the people who entered the castle these days ever made it out.)

-

The colder months leave Jihyo reluctant to roll out of her warm bed in the mornings. Jeongyeon no longer expects her to be conscious enough to help with breakfast, instead allowing her an extra half hour to extract herself from the cozy comforter without disturbing Tzuyu, who is still blissfully asleep on the other side of the mattress.

Jihyo splashes water from the washroom basin onto her face and winces when the freezing droplets hit her skin. It does the job of waking her up, though, and she shuffles into the main room just in time to hear Jeongyeon demand, “Are you crazy?”

There is someone at the door, and Jihyo catches a glimpse of the royal colors gleaming against his armor. Jeongyeon stands at the threshold, all but glaring holes through the piece of parchment in her hands. 

“It’s the decree, Miss,” the guard says stiffly, fixing his eyes at some point above her head. “You’d do best to obey it.”

The parchment crumples harshly in Jeongyeon’s grip as Jihyo steps up behind her. “What’s this?”

Jeongyeon shoves the decree at Jihyo, eyes flashing in barely restrained anger. “They want to take Hyunjin and Jisung.” 

“What?” Jihyo snatches the paper, skimming the expensive ink much too fast for the words to sink in properly. She goes back and reads each line again, heart sore and sunken by the time she reaches the end. “They’ve just turned twelve. Chan and Minho didn’t start working until they were fourteen.”

“We must all adapt to ensure the advancement of the kingdom,” the guard says. “They will be appropriately compensated for their work, as the others always have been.” He dips his head before turning on his heel. “Good day.”

“Bastard,” Jeongyeon snarls under her breath, and Jihyo quickly shuts the door lest he hear. 

“What happened?” Dahyun yawns as she walks up, rubbing at her eyes with one hand. 

“Hyunjin and Jisung have to report to the mill starting tomorrow morning,” Jihyo says. She holds out the wrinkled declaration for Dahyun to see. “They’re barely taller than I am, and they’re expected to work day in and day out with those huge machines that have maimed dozens of adults. And we already have Chan and Minho to worry about.”

“Old man Choi died at the mill just a month ago,” says Jeongyeon darkly. “They literally made him work to his grave.”

Dahyun clenches her jaw, and then crumples up the parchment. “This can’t go on.”

“Tell me about it,” Jeongyeon scoffs. 

Jihyo, however, recognizes the dangerous glint that enters Dahyun’s eyes. “Please stop thinking whatever you’re thinking.”

Dahyun crosses her arms. “I’ve had it, Jihyo. I’m sure life wasn’t perfect when my parents were ruling, but my uncle has made it a plague to live at all.” She gestures towards the window, the sky outside cold and gray. “And it’s only getting worse. What if next time they come knocking, they order little Jeongin to work? He’s not even seven. Or what if they come for you, or for Tzuyu?”

“This isn’t your problem to fix,” Jihyo says. All she can think about is Nayeon on that storm-ridden night, shaken to the bone even after hours of sitting in front of the fire. “Dahyun, it’s already treason that you’re here with us. I’m begging you to stop speaking your thoughts so fearlessly. Or even better, please stop having them at all.”

“This _is_ my problem,” Dahyun insists. “I won’t ask any of you to conspire with me, because I already owe you all a debt that I will never be able to repay. But I can’t live with this mark on my back and not take the responsibility that comes with it.”

Jeongyeon shifts, mouth opening to reason with Dahyun further. But then Tzuyu enters the room, blinking owlishly at the small gathering at its center. “Good morning. Is something the matter?”

“Morning.” Jihyo manages a weary smile even as her mind continues to furiously turn. “We’re upset because they’ve started recruiting the younger boys for the mill.”

Jeongyeon sighs. “Right, I should break the news to them. Would you three take care of breakfast?”

Dahyun nods and heads for the kitchen without another word. Tzuyu moves closer to Jihyo. “There was more to it than that.”

Jihyo huffs. She runs a hand through her hair, belatedly realizing that she’d forgotten to brush it. “Did the mice or the birds say something to you?”

“The mice are sleeping,” says Tzuyu. “And the birds can’t hear when the windows are closed. But I don’t need to talk to any creature at all when everything is already written so clearly on your face.”

Jihyo presses her fingers to her temples, wondering if it is possible to get a headache so early in the morning. “Please don’t tell anyone. And if Dahyun mentions it to you, don’t encourage her.”

Tzuyu shrugs. “You won’t be able to stop her. She’s the same girl who wants to feed every stray dog that stops by our yard, but she’s too scared to do it herself. So then she keeps bothering me until I do it for her, and also makes sure I tell each of them to have a good day before they leave.”

Jihyo smiles a little. “You would do all of those things anyway.” Tzuyu only shrugs. Then Dahyun reappears from the kitchen, a stack of bowls taller than her head balanced in her arms, and Tzuyu hurries over to help her.

The chores for the day are light, and Jihyo excuses herself soon after helping clean up breakfast. She grabs a cloak and Nayeon’s old scarf, tucking her hands into her pockets to keep them warm as she steps outside. 

The crowds are muted as usual, the daily bustle dampened by the ever present haze of sawdust now mixed in with the muddy snow blanketing the streets. The creaking, spinning blades of the mill loom overhead, and Jihyo instinctively turns away to try and escape how it towers above every roof in town.

Before long, she finds herself at the edge of the forest. The trees are bare now, but she would rather see their dark trunks and spindly branches than yet another field of jagged stumps. Mina crosses her mind briefly, then; although Jihyo had been to the forest a handful of times after their encounter, the nymph was nowhere to be found. Jihyo considers returning to what is left of the orchard again, but she doesn’t think she can bear to witness the skeleton of her childhood another time.

She heads to the river instead. The water runs swiftly enough that it rarely ices over even in the depths of winter, but it’s not so wide that she can’t throw a pebble to the other bank. Jihyo walks alongside it for a few minutes, listening to the ice-crusted flow, until she finds a rock that’s large and flat enough to sit on.

She settles down, wrapping her cloak more tightly around herself to keep the feeling in her limbs. The stitching in the scarf has come loose, and Jihyo carefully adjusts it as she reminds herself to knit a new one before Nayeon returns for her monthly visit.

“You’ve returned.”

Somehow, Jihyo isn’t entirely surprised that Mina is now standing to her left, a meter or so away. But the sight still robs Jihyo of all her breath, and she can’t think of much to say besides, “You didn’t blind me this time.”

“I thought I’d spare you,” Mina says mildly, and Jihyo notices that her eyes are now twin pools, undisturbed as they reflect a pleasantly clear sky. “The need to impress isn’t so necessary when we’ve already met once.”

“You’ve already impressed me, regardless,” Jihyo says without thinking, and feels her cheeks heat up as Mina laughs.

“I suppose I can’t complain about that.” The river splashes beside them, and Mina’s stare curves into crescents. “What brings you here this time? It’s much past the season for apples.”

Jihyo returns her gaze to the water that isn’t swirling in Mina’s irises. “I needed somewhere to think.”

Mina hums. “This is a good place for it.”

Jihyo nods. Absently, she wonders where the river is flowing from, and where it is heading. Eventually, the waves of water rushing past her now might know a land far away from this kingdom, and she wishes that the currents would carry her there, too. “Dahyun really means to try and overthrow the king.”

“That is not something I would ever object to,” Mina says. Her tone turns light. “And she did make a very serious promise.”

“No, you don’t -- you don’t understand.” Jihyo squeezes her eyes shut and rubs at them with the heels of her hands. “What Dahyun wants is treason. If she gets caught, death would be the best thing to come out of it.”

“Some might consider the wanton destruction of an ageless forest to be treason,” says Mina. She walks closer, lowering herself to the ground and primly tucking her legs beneath her. “If I could take one step out of this forest, I can guarantee that your king would not survive tomorrow’s sunrise.” 

Mina’s confidence chills the blood in Jihyo’s veins. Jihyo ignores her erratically thumping heart and clears her throat. “But you can’t? Leave the forest.”

Mina shakes her head. “Nymphs are rooted to their homes. The forest is where I belong, and so with the forest I will stay -- until the very last tree is cut down and reduced to wretched sawdust.”

Jihyo swallows, and then looks back at the river. “I don’t think it will get better. Just this morning they started ordering children to work at the mill -- kids who can barely lift a sack of flour, much less navigate heavy machinery even adults can’t always handle. Who knows what will happen next.”

“Nothing pleasant, I’m afraid,” is all Mina can offer. She extends one of her feet to touch the running water below them, and Jihyo doesn’t know if it’s the movement or the words that fill her chest with a sudden sadness. It’s heavy, like the weight Dahyun has been bearing from the start, and Jihyo is only just now realizing that ignoring it is no longer an option.

Jihyo grits her teeth. After a few moments, she lets out a long exhale. “Shit.”

Mina blinks at her. “Pardon?”

“Not you, it’s just --” Jihyo rests her head in her hands for a few moments before straightening, fists clenching resolutely. “Fuck, I have to do it.” She turns to Mina, staring into eyes that sing of cloudless skies and the delicate brushing of frost-turned-dew in the mornings that crystallize Jihyo’s breath into bursts of mist. “She’s going to get herself killed, but I know that she’s right. Dahyun’s been right all of this time, and I have to help her.”

Mina’s mouth drops open slightly, and then curves into a slow smile. “Do you promise, Jihyo?”

In a spur of boldness, Jihyo reaches out to take Mina’s hand. Mina is warm, eyes wide but searching. 

Jihyo inhales deeply, the winter air chilling her nose and throat. “I promise.” 

Mina’s smile grows, her hope as clear and refreshing as the river water gurgling below them. Jihyo glances again at the rushing current, thinking of where it might be running to, before looking back to meet the ocean of Mina’s gaze. 

Jihyo finds, then, that she is no longer afraid of drowning. 

**III. Spring**

(“Jeongyeon,” asked Jihyo exactly two days after Nayeon left to begin work at the castle, “are you in love?”

“Lo -- love?” Jeongyeon stammered, covering her sudden coughing fit with a hand. “What -- why? With who?”

Jihyo only rolled her eyes, because while Jeongyeon at least attempted to be discreet, Nayeon had always been about as subtle as a stone to the face. 

“With Nayeon? What makes you think that?” Jihyo opened her mouth to answer, but Jeongyeon continued to steamroll right over her. “Look, just because her hands are nice to hold, and she gets so annoyingly proud when she tells a good joke, and sometimes her eyes turn really soft when she’s hugging the kids because she just cares for them so, so much --”

“Is it because she’s a good kisser?” Jihyo finally cut in.

Jeongyeon stopped, gaping at Jihyo for a few seconds before she managed to gather enough of her bearings. “As if I’d only care about something so shallow --”

“I didn’t say that it’s the only thing you care about,” Jihyo said, raising her eyebrows.

Jeongyeon reddened, and then nodded once in the face of Jihyo’s victorious smirk. “Yeah, she’s a pretty good kisser.”)

-

Everyone knows that Princess Dahyun’s fifteenth birthday is at the end of May, so Jeongyeon always calls for celebration much earlier, usually as soon as the snow begins to melt at the start of March. The night air is already warm enough for them to gather around the fireplace without extra blankets, drinks in hand a few hours after the younger children have been put to bed. 

Despite her multiple outbursts in Jihyo’s presence, Dahyun has done an impressive job of keeping her more revolutionary schemes to herself. But now, on the night a few months before she officially turns fifteen, Dahyun swallows the last mouthful of ale and says, “Nayeon, if I asked you to help me take back the castle as my birthday present, would you say yes?”

Nayeon giggles, face flushed by fire and drink and Jeongyeon’s arm around her waist. “Of course.” And hits her empty mug against Dahyun’s to seal the pact. Jihyo and Tzuyu exchange glances from opposite sides of their small circle, but their tipsy discussion aimlessly wanders away, and the topic is immediately forgotten.

Early the next morning, Nayeon groans into the hot coffee Jeongyeon sets in front of her while she gripes about Nayeon’s persistent need to ensure a hearty hangover. Nayeon doesn’t lift her head, but she reaches out for Jeongyeon’s hand and gives it a squeeze in thanks. Jihyo rolls her eyes.

Dahyun is still passed out in her bed, so Jihyo takes the opportunity to lean across the table and lower her voice. “Did you mean what you said last night? To Dahyun?” 

“Of course,” Nayeon says again, wincing as she rubs at her head. “I started this entire saga by saving her, didn’t I? I’m already bound to see it through to the end.”

Jihyo opens her mouth to retort, but finds no argument ready on her tongue. She sighs, dropping the subject in favor of pushing the little pot of sugar on the table closer to Nayeon’s waving hand.

The room slowly fills as the morning warms into the day. Jeongyeon recruits Nayeon and Dahyun to help serve breakfast, and Jihyo and Tzuyu are put on dishwashing duty afterwards. Jihyo takes care of rinsing off the soapy suds, and Tzuyu dries the bowls and utensils before setting them in their respective cupboards. Jihyo is in the middle of passing a freshly rinsed mug when Tzuyu says, “We should start planning.”

“Plan?” is Jihyo’s immediate reaction. And after a pause, she adds, “We?”

“Yes,” says Tzuyu, her tone implying that Jihyo should have caught on by now. “While Nayeon is here, too. Otherwise we’ll have to wait another month until she returns next.”

“Right.” Jihyo grips the edge of the sink, ignoring the watery handprints she’s sure to leave behind. “We should plan.”

Soon after, Tzuyu makes quick work of gathering everyone else at one end of the long table. The boys have gone to the mill, and the rest of the children have finished their chores and tumbled into the yard to relish in the last of the snow. Jihyo clears her throat in an otherwise empty room, and then looks at Dahyun. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“It’s easy, right?” Nayeon cuts in. “We have to kill him.”

Dahyun pales at the mention, and then she sets her jaw. “I suppose we’d have to, but I don’t think there will be anything easy about it.”

“We could get some poison,” Jeongyeon says with a cautious glance at the princess. “Maybe Nayeon can slip it into his food.”

Nayeon sits back, crossing her arms. “Unfortunately, I am but a lowly cleaning maid. They won’t let me within fifty meters of the kitchen.”

Jihyo runs a finger along the grain of the tabletop. “Well, you definitely won’t be able to just sneak up behind him and take a stab or two. Even if you did succeed, you’d be dead before you could celebrate.”

“You could sneak us in,” Dahyun offers. “And if the guards see me, I’m sure they’d think twice about retaliating.”

“Or they are as traitorous as your uncle, and would be more than ready to finish the job he started six years ago,” says Jeongyeon.

“I could recruit some other servants I think are trustworthy,” Nayeon suggests after another moment of pondering. “We might be able to gather a large enough alliance inside the castle to overwhelm anyone loyal to your uncle.” 

Jihyo shakes her head. “The more people you speak of this to, the more dangerous it becomes. It would be a simple matter of someone betraying us for some extra gold or fancier living quarters.”

“If you’re trying to catch a rat, you don’t go after him in his house,” says Tzuyu. All eyes turn to her, and she shrugs. “You lure him out instead, straight into a trap.”

Nayeon scoffs. “Best of luck trying to move that lump of a man. I’ve heard that the chambermaids have to bring the bathwater to him if they want to spare the entire palace from his royal stench.”

Tzuyu’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “In that case, we draw him out by force.”

Dahyun frowns. “Force him out? How?”

“Magic,” Tzuyu says brightly. The blank stares she receives do little to dampen her tone as she continues. “All we need is a spell or potion that will take him out of the castle and send him to a place of our choosing. As long as Nayeon can cast it on him, we’re guaranteed to succeed.”

“Alright,” Jeongyeon says slowly. “Let’s say that such magic exists. How would we go about obtaining it?”

Tzuyu grins. “The birds have always mentioned a conjurer living somewhere in the middle of the forest. They also insist that chimneys and wagons are magic, so I usually ignore them. But I was speaking to a cat yesterday afternoon, and he swore that what they’re saying is true.”

“So we should trust the cat,” says Nayeon, voice flat.

“Yes.” Tzuyu blinks. “Cats are very smart.”

Jeongyeon nudges Nayeon sharply in the side to get her to drop her incredulous expression. “Does he know exactly where the conjurer is, then?”

“Cats are very smart, except when it comes to directions,” Tzuyu amends.

“That’s alright,” Jihyo says slowly. “I might know of a way to find that conjurer.” She quickly becomes the new target of four bewildered looks; even Dahyun seems lost, but that’s to be expected since Jihyo has kept her second encounter with Mina to herself. So she smiles, standing up. “I’ll be back.” And rushes out the door before the others can finish trying to stop her.

It’s not until she reaches the treeline that Jihyo realizes she has no surefire way of contacting Mina. She stands still, listening to the tentative birdsong, but she will never possess Tzuyu’s special gift. After shifting for a few moments, she decides to make her way to the river again. 

The water level has heightened from the snowmelt, threatening to flood the banks on either side. Jihyo almost slips a few times, the soles of her shoes sliding slickly across the feathery new grass taking root in the mud, and she can’t help but smile even as she yelps every time she nearly tips into the swift currents.

The rushing water laughs with her, and she follows its flow as well as its sound. She’s so focused on the river that she doesn’t notice when the sunlight begins to tint green, shining through the leafy treetops above. It’s not until Jihyo enters a sudden clearing that she realizes how much the forest around her has changed.

The entire area is serene, as if it has been enclosed in the thinnest casing of glass. Here, the trees have never known winter, and the flowers blooming along the vines curling up the trunks and scattered in the reeds surrounding the pool at the center are painted in every color Jihyo has ever dreamed of. She steps closer to the water, already enchanted by how not a single ripple shatters its cerulean surface. 

“Who do we have here?”

Jihyo breaks free from her trance. She whirls around, and then immediately stumbles back at the sight of the two other girls standing in the clearing. The one with bright orange hair steps forward first, her eyes glinting like freshly cut emeralds as she smiles brightly and continues to speak. “It’s not often that we get visitors.”

“I -- I’m sorry,” Jihyo manages, her feet suddenly refusing to move as the other two glide closer. “I wasn’t really thinking about where I was going, and I ended up here by accident.”

The blonde -- her hair a whiter shade than Mina’s gold -- giggles as she bumps shoulders with her companion, irises melted into the cozy shade of the newborn grass below their feet. “She’s pretty cute. Should we keep her?”

Jihyo squeaks, finally managing a step back as she throws her hands up. “Um, wait, can you just -- not be so close?”

The orange-haired girl laughs, but pauses in her approach. “Why? There’s no need to be afraid.”

“I just need some space,” Jihyo breathes, her eyes flicking from one to the other. “Are you two -- are you nymphs, too?”

The both of them blink in unison, and the blonde’s mouth drops open slightly.

“I’ve met Mina,” Jihyo admits to fill the silence. She already knows that she is right, anyway -- there is only one explanation for the inexplicable allure these two girls are constantly pulling her in with. And yet, her knees tremble and her skin itches, her nerves uneasy in a way she has never felt when standing in front of Mina.

“So you’re the girl she’s been talking about.” The orange-haired one recovers first. Her grin widens, still bright, but her crystal gaze softens at its edges. “Jihyo, right? My name is Sana.”

“And I’m Momo,” the blonde adds before the corners of her smile begin to curl. “Mina has good taste, as expected.”

Jihyo lets out a nervous chuckle, trying not to let any of their words dig into her thoughts too much. “I really am sorry about intruding.”

“It’s alright,” Sana says easily. “It happens. Were you looking for Mina?”

Jihyo’s eyes widen. “Right, yes, I was. But I assume you two are as familiar with the forest as she is.” She clears her throat. “Would you happen to know of a conjurer who lives here?”

“A conjurer?” Momo gives Jihyo a curious look, and then glances at Sana. “She must mean Chaeyoung.”

“Chaeyoung?” Jihyo repeats. “Where can I find her?”

“It would be easier to show you,” says Sana, ever cheerful as she extends a hand towards the pool. “We could escort you, but we can also show you the way if you prefer to go on your own.”

“I’d hate to trouble you,” Jihyo says quickly. She steps up to the pool at Sana’s invitation, kneeling at its edge before she looks in. The water sits a motionless mirror, and Jihyo sees in her reflection each strand of her hair that she had forgotten to brush down that morning -- and exactly how flushed her cheeks have become because of the two nymphs now on either side of her. 

“It’s pretty, right?” Sana murmurs, breath warming Jihyo’s ear as she reaches out to land a delicate touch on the water’s surface.

The pool immediately ripples, perfectly concentric circles radiating outwards from the tip of Sana’s finger. Jihyo’s reflection wavers, and then she sees the orchard.

The trees stand tall, momentarily impervious to the distant future and its swinging axes. The leaves rustle in just the way Jihyo remembers, the scent of ripe apples already filling her nostrils. Her vision tints with the rosy heat of skinned knees and weightless laughter, and then the colors change. It’s fall, and Mina is smiling at her as they sit side by side on the river bank, kicking water at each other while trying to avoid getting splashed themselves. Jihyo bends further forward as she extends her leg, eager to get back at Mina -- 

“Jihyo!” 

She blinks. Mina and the river are gone, and she registers only her own eyes staring wildly back at her. Jihyo realizes that she has leaned much too close to the pool; she’s about to tip over --

“Get away from there!” A pair of hands swiftly grip her shoulders and wrench her backwards. Jihyo lands on her rear, but the grass is soft and she barely feels it. She throws out her arms, scrambling to grab onto something and steady herself.

“Mina,” Momo whines from somewhere to Jihyo’s right, “you don’t have to make that scary face. We weren’t really going to push her in.”

“That pool is dangerous to humans,” Mina says, voice flatter than the sharpest sword. “How could you let her near it?”

The daze muddling Jihyo’s head has cleared now that her heart is not pounding so furiously. She instinctively curls her fingers, seeking the safety of the grass below her. Then she realizes that while one of her hands is indeed planted on the ground, her other palm is pressed against a surface that is distinctly warmer. 

Jihyo jerks her hand back from Mina’s knee. The heat of Mina’s other leg burns across her back, and the realization that she’s essentially landed in Mina’s lap sends her clambering straight to her feet. 

“Look, you’ve scared her,” Mina scolds as she stands up slowly and smoothly, calmly shaking out the cloth of her dress. 

“We’re sorry.” To Sana’s credit, she does sound contrite. “She was looking for Chaeyoung and we offered to take her there, but would you like to instead?”

“Gladly,” Mina huffs. Then she turns her gaze to Jihyo; where her eyes had blazed orange in the fall and churned with every wave on the sea that past winter, Mina now looks at Jihyo with the downy glimmer of a thousand forest fireflies. “Shall we go?”

Jihyo can’t seem to find her voice, so she nods instead. Mina turns and walks towards the edge of the clearing, leaving Jihyo to stumble after her.

“I apologize for my sisters,” Mina says once they’re back among the trees. “They didn’t mean any harm to you, but it’s easy for us to forget how fragile humans are.”

“It’s alright,” says Jihyo, although her heart still quickens at the thought of almost falling into the pool. “What would have happened? You know, if I’d gone into the water.”

“You’d never come back up.” Mina glances at Jihyo over her shoulder. “If I’m to be completely honest with you, we’ve even used that trick on some of the loggers who somehow get lost enough to find us there.”

Mina’s admission distracts Jihyo from taking her next step forward, and she almost trips over her own feet. She quickly recovers and clears her throat. “I’d heard of -- of accidents that come with the job.”

“It’s not enough, still,” says Mina. “We can do other things to slow progress, like make their axe handles grow over the blades, or ask the vines and tree roots to tangle their feet. But it’s still not enough to stop them.”

“That’s why I need to find Chaeyoung,” Jihyo says. Mina glances back at her again, and she tries for a smile. “We have a plan.”

Jihyo fills Mina in as they continue walking. When she’s finished, Mina nods. “If anyone can make a teleportation spell, it’s Chaeyoung.” She gestures ahead of them as the path widens. “We’re here.”

The hut that stands in the middle of the clearing is simply built, one that Jihyo wouldn’t spare a second glance at if it had stood in the middle of town. The cobweb spun in the top corner of the doorway does give her pause, but the curiously blue spider sitting at the center makes no move to acknowledge their presence.

Mina knocks. “Chaeyoung? It’s me.”

The door swings open, thankfully not disturbing the web into anything beyond a gentle swaying. Jihyo isn’t sure what she had been expecting a conjurer to look like, but it certainly wasn’t a girl even shorter than she was, with hair -- dyed a peculiar but tasteful blend of gray and blue and green -- twisted into two buns on either side of her head. Chaeyoung grins, her cheek dimpling. “Long time no see, Mina. What brings you here?”

“Jihyo,” says Mina, stepping to the side to let Jihyo come forward, “might have the answer to all of our forest destruction problems.”

“Oh?” Chaeyoung glances over, round eyes bright as she gives Jihyo a onceover. “How so?”

Jihyo clears her throat, and then takes a breath. “Dahyun -- Dahyun Kim, the princess, never died six years ago.”

“Well, I know _that_.” Chaeyoung takes in their surprised expressions. “What? The cat told me.”

The black cat in question steps out from the shadow of the doorway, arching his back to rub against Chaeyoung’s leg before crossing over the threshold. Chaeyoung leans down to scratch behind his ears, which he allows for a few seconds before padding away into the forest. 

“So,” says Chaeyoung, “if Dahyun Kim the princess wants to take back her throne, I’d be more than happy to help her. The king and I do have a bit of a score to settle.”

Jihyo frowns. “You do?”

“The king is a conjurer too, you know,” Chaeyoung says. “I’m just the better one. But he was still able to poison Dahyun’s parents, and he not only stole the enchantment I’d been working on for months, but also had the gall to use it to turn the entire kingdom into the utterly depressing, profiting state it is today.” 

“Your enchantment is what is helping the loggers?” Jihyo presses.

Chaeyoung shakes her head. “It’s not an enchantment for the loggers, but one to preserve a tool or piece of machinery in its best form. It’s a powerful thing if you think about it, having a sawmill that will never break. Time is now inconsequential, because you can work it the entire day and all of the night, and never take a day off for rest or repairs. So as long as you have the manpower, and perhaps some enchanted axes to arm them with, your industry will continue to expand, unstoppable.”

Jihyo closes her eyes, letting Chaeyoung’s words sink in. “But if it’s your enchantment, couldn’t you find a way to undo it?”

Chaeyoung waves a hand. “It’s not that simple, but it has been what I’ve been trying to figure out for the past six years. Unfortunately, the king does possess some skill, and is always weaving extra protections and charms to make it even more difficult to sabotage.”

“Then if we destroy the king,” says Mina, “you can find a way to undo everything.”

“It would be much easier,” Chaeyoung says with a nod. “So what does Dahyun Kim have in mind?”

Not even an hour later, Mina and Jihyo leave Chaeyoung’s hut. Jihyo’s head is stuffed, thoughts racing as she tries to sort every item into a reasonable order. 

“You’re thinking very loudly,” says Mina. “We will have some time, still, for you to discuss with Dahyun and the others. Chaeyoung won’t have the spell ready for at least another month or two.”

“There’s still so much to set straight,” Jihyo says with a heavy sigh. “I know I have to get Dahyun back on the throne, and I know that we can do it. But there are so many steps that must happen in between, and I --”

“Jihyo,” Mina laughs. “Take a breath. Why don’t we talk about something else for a while?”

Jihyo immediately slows her steps; she hadn’t realized that the frantic frenzy in her head had been powering her legs as well. “Sorry.” She turns around. “We can talk about something else.”

“Good. Because there is something I would very much like you to know,” says Mina. They’re standing facing each other now, and the lushness in Mina’s eyes reminds Jihyo of the nymphs’ clearing, its deadly pool drowned out by all of the life surrounding it. It’s a tender color, trembling under the weight of the wide, wide world it’s been born into. And perhaps, Jihyo suddenly realizes, because --

“Mina,” Jihyo says slowly. “Are you nervous?”

Mina folds her hands in front of herself, glancing down as her hair falls to cover one side of her face. “It didn’t sit very well with me when Sana and Momo looked like they wanted to kiss you.”

Jihyo is no longer walking, but her heart has picked up the pace ten times over. “They wanted to kiss me?”

“Nymphs can be flirty by nature.” For once, Jihyo can’t seem to catch Mina’s gaze. “It’s just good fun for them, and I can’t fault them for it.”

“Oh,” says Jihyo. She tries to think of something -- anything to speak into the still, still air between them. “If you wanted to kiss me, too, would it also just be good fun?”

Mina finally meets Jihyo’s eyes, and Jihyo thinks of the mountains to the west, the forests that blanket their slopes rising magnificently above the highest flying clouds -- untouchable. And then Mina says, “If it was just good fun to me, I would find the fault only in myself.”

Jihyo doesn’t remember stepping forward; the next thing she knows is that Mina smells of pine and tastes like apples. And when they break apart to breathe, all Jihyo can see are thousands and thousands of fireflies.

**IV. Summer**

(Dahyun didn’t talk much during her first week at the orphanage, and Jihyo hadn’t expected any less considering the trauma she had gone through. But Jihyo was also impatient, itching to speak with their newest addition despite Jeongyeon’s repeated warnings to allow Dahyun as much time as she needed.

“Hey.” 

Dahyun didn’t respond, as usual, but Jihyo didn’t let that deter her this time as she sat beside Dahyun in front of the fireplace. It was still daylight, so Chan hadn’t gotten around to lighting the logs just yet. Nevertheless, Dahyun often spent time sitting on the hearth, staring into the ash-blackened cavern as if it would hold her salvation.

“It’s just you and me right now,” Jihyo said, remembering the first time she had gotten Tzuyu to talk to someone besides the animals that visited their front yard, “so I’m going to ask you a secret question. Is that okay?”

Dahyun’s eyes flicked to Jihyo’s face for a second, and then returned to the fireplace.

Jihyo leaned in a little closer. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Dahyun stiffened -- an impressive feat considering how straight her posture already was. 

“You already know, right?” Jihyo said, grinning. “You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone else.”

Dahyun’s mouth finally opened, and a quick murmur of words escaped her lips.

“What?” Jihyo shifted closer still, their knees bumping against each other. “Can you say that again?”

“The queen,” Dahyun said. “When I grow up, I want to be the queen.”

Jihyo’s smile widened. “Really? That’s amazing, Dahyun. I don’t really know you that well yet, but I do know you’d be great at it.”

Dahyun’s cheeks flushed pink. Then she turned to face Jihyo more fully. “What about you -- Jihyo? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Jihyo’s heart warmed at Dahyun remembering her name, and maybe that was why an answer immediately popped into her head. “I’ll work for you. At the castle and everything.”

Dahyun’s eyes widened. “You would?”

“Of course,” said Jihyo. She reached out to take Dahyun’s hand in hers. “Whatever you need, I will always be there for you, Dahyun.”

Dahyun’s lips curved into a tentative smile. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Jihyo said with a giggle. She placed her free hand over her heart, her tone solemn even as her giddiness took over her words. “Long live the queen.”)

-

Jihyo finds herself returning to the forest more frequently as the weeks pass. It’s hard not to, especially when Mina seems to have every tree listening for her footsteps, and appears before Jihyo can even begin to think about where to look for her.

The riverbank quickly becomes a favorite spot of theirs, as the loggers have left the area mostly untouched. Mina likes to dip her feet in as soon as they sit down in the grass, and Jihyo follows once she has kicked off her shoes. The water is colder than she expects, despite having done exactly this multiple times before, and Jihyo jerks her feet back out of the icy rush. 

Mina laughs, and the sound of it floats through the air as if it’s made from feathers. “Why do you always do that?”

Jihyo huffs, submerging her feet more slowly this time. She shivers as her skin adjusts to the cooler temperature, and then wiggles her toes when the water no longer feels as chilly. “I don’t have the best memory, it seems.”

Mina leans back on her hands, golden gaze fond as it catches Jihyo’s. “You have other attractive features.”

“Do I?” Jihyo kicks out, watching the river droplets arc from her foot before spattering back into the main current. “I think you’ve said that to all the people you’ve kissed.”

Mina hums, the sun catching on her hair and her face, and Jihyo can’t even be bothered to feel the jealousy she should hold for anyone else who has been taken by this very same sight. Mina leans in, smile full of affection and eyes gentler than molten honey. “But you’re the only one I’d like to kiss right now.”

Jihyo lets her, of course. And she only pulls back when Momo appears over Mina’s shoulder, who blithely ignores Mina’s glare as she informs them that Chaeyoung has arrived, and the meeting is about to begin.

The nine of them have decided to gather a little further up the bank, sitting in a circle but with Dahyun clearly at the head. When Mina and Jihyo have settled in their spots, Dahyun clears her throat. “I, um, would like to thank you all for coming today.”

“Spoken like a true queen,” Jihyo chides, grinning, and Dahyun straightens her back in response. 

“I really am grateful that you’re all here to help me.” Her voice steadies as she looks at each of the nymphs and the conjurer, only twitching slightly when she notices the cat in Chaeyoung’s lap. “Even if you don’t know me very well.”

“You promised to save the forest,” says Mina lightly, “and that is all we have ever wanted.”

“Your uncle has always had it out for me,” Chaeyoung adds. “Even when we were children.”

Jihyo narrows her eyes at Chaeyoung, who looks barely older than Tzuyu. But she leaves the issue for another day as Dahyun continues. “Jihyo told me that you have a teleportation spell ready?”

“Right here.” Chaeyoung raises a hand, a small leather pouch dangling from her fingers. “Who’s to be the lucky caster?”

“That would be me.” Nayeon catches the pouch and loosens the drawstrings to examine the contents. “How do I cast it?”

“Teleportation is a tricky business, because it requires a magical core,” Chaeyoung says. “For example, the nymphs can do it because they themselves are magical, and any spellcaster can because they can implement the necessary magic to perform the teleportation. However, this also means that we cannot forcibly teleport the king alone if he is not casting the spell himself.”

Nayeon pulls out a tube of parchment and begins to unroll it. “You mean to say that I have to cast the spell on him, and then I will also be teleported?”

Chaeyoung nods. “This works in our favor, actually, because I’ve designed it to bring you to a place of your choosing. The spell itself is a circle of symbols you will draw on the ground he is sure to walk on -- the chalk I have in there can write on any surface. So as long as you can picture that location in your mind as he steps inside it, you can bring both the king and yourself to whichever area we have decided on.”

Nayeon slips the parchment back into the pouch. “Sounds easy enough.”

“Dangerous, is what it sounds like,” says Jeongyeon with a frown. “How would you be able to set all of that up without getting caught?”

“I have my methods.” Nayeon leans into her side and shoots her a wink. “Trust me, would you?”

“You should bring him to the pool,” Sana says. “We can show you where it is later. But that is where our powers as nymphs are the strongest, and it’s naturally enchanted to be difficult for unexpected visitors to stumble upon.”

“We’ll defeat him there, then,” says Chaeyoung. “The nymphs and I will take care of it.”

“Do you plan to kill him?”

All eyes turn to Dahyun. Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “Does that not agree with you, princess?”

Dahyun maintains eye contact. “My uncle took the throne by bloodshed. I think it would not bode well to restore it in the same manner.”

“Dahyun,” says Nayeon quietly. “He will want to kill you as soon as he sets eyes on you.”

Dahyun crosses her arms. “He will want to, but I have to give him the chance to change his mind.”

Nayeon’s expression blanks, incredulous, and even Tzuyu looks ready to hold Dahyun down and force a sense of practicality into her head. But Jihyo can only sigh. “Then we’ll be there, too, the four of us. To drag your self-sacrificing ass to safety as soon as he makes a wrong move.”

Mina stiffens. She turns to Jihyo. “Humans have no business in a confrontation like that.”

“Dahyun is a human,” says Jeongyeon. “And Nayeon will also be there if the spell works.”

“But none of you know magic,” Momo says. Her worried eyes shine like over-ripened wheat, stalks bending too easily for even the slightest breeze. “Do you even know how to fight?”

Nayeon scoffs. “Just because we’re commonfolk doesn’t mean that we’re weak.”

“Well, we are,” says Jeongyeon, grunting when Nayeon sends an elbow into her stomach. She coughs before saying, “but you can’t expect us to safely twiddle our thumbs back in town while Dahyun faces down her uncle by herself. So we’ll be there too, and stay out of your way so you won’t have to worry.” 

“This is unnecessary.” Mina’s stare has hardened, the glint so sharp that Jihyo is afraid of cutting herself should she stare for too long. “The princess, I will stomach. But the rest of you have no place within fifty meters of that man once he is out of the castle.”

Jihyo reaches over to lay her hand on top of Mina’s. “We can discuss it later.”

Mina turns, the white-hot fury in her gaze pinning Jihyo in place, and it is all Jihyo can do to not swallow too audibly. Still, after a few tense moments, Mina relents with a stiff nod.

“So it’s decided,” Dahyun says. “Nayeon will bring my uncle to the nymphs’ pool, and I will convince him to give the throne to me. If he becomes hostile,” she hesitates, “we will have no choice but to end his life.”

“We can arrange it to be six days from now, an hour after sunset,” Nayeon says. “That’s when he makes his weekly evening walk in the garden, so I’ll have plenty of room to prepare the circle and hide nearby to see when he steps into it.”

“Good,” says Dahyun. “We have a plan, and we will succeed.”

“Dahyun,” Jeongyeon’s voice lowers, tone tentative. “You know that becoming queen is only the beginning. You are still young, and the transfer of power will already be more than difficult. But even after all of that, your reign will be long. You will be held responsible for some of the kingdom’s successes, but also for all of its failures.”

“We know you are not taking this lightly,” Nayeon adds on, gentle. “But we will also not see you as anything less if you decide at any point that this isn’t what you want, after all.”

“I want it,” Dahyun says quietly. Her grip on the hem of her tunic tightens, curled fingers digging into the fabric. “I haven’t wanted anything more in my life.”

The circle falls silent, making room for the rush of the river and the summer breeze rustling through the treetops to fill their ears instead. And then Nayeon clears her throat. “Until the end, then.”

“It’s not over until it’s over,” Jihyo agrees. 

“We’ll show you the pool,” Sana offers to Nayeon after a beat. “The rest of you are free to come along.”

“Would it be alright if I petted you?” Tzuyu asks Chaeyoung’s cat as the rest of them begin to stand. 

“Sana, Momo, no pushing anyone in this time,” Mina reminds them. Then she takes Jihyo’s elbow. “Could I borrow you for a moment, please?”

Mina pulls Jihyo back to their spot on the riverbank. They stand by the water, facing each other, and then Mina takes both of Jihyo’s hands in hers. 

“I don’t want you there,” says Mina, the honesty in her eyes glaring so intensely that Jihyo is nearly blinded. “I think that it’s much too dangerous for any of you, but I especially don’t want _you_ there.”

Jihyo clears her throat. “I know. But Dahyun is -- she’s my family, and I have to protect her. I have to get Dahyun on that throne.” She hears her voice tear a little, but she continues despite her ragged throat. “You know I have to.”

Mina searches Jihyo’s eyes for a few moments, and then closes her own. She exhales slowly through her nose. “I know.” She brings up both of Jihyo’s hands and presses her lips against the back of each one. “But Dahyun would not want you to get hurt for her, either.”

“It’s different,” says Jihyo, “protecting someone and getting hurt for them.” She tries for a grin. “You would protect me, wouldn’t you?”

Mina’s eyes flutter open, the sun shining in them as if they, too, are stars. “Above anyone else.” 

And Jihyo doesn’t know what to do with the solid weight that settles so comfortably inside of her chest -- a treasure she would take over even the most precious of metals. So she steps forward and wraps her arms around Mina’s waist, pulling Mina in as close as she can bear and burying her face in the crook of Mina’s neck.

Jihyo inhales, taking in the smell of the lazy summer afternoon and how it is exactly Mina, and smiles into Mina’s shoulder as she feels Mina take a breath, too. “We’ll be alright,” Jihyo tells Mina, and herself. “Nayeon will cast the spell without a hitch, and Dahyun will convince her uncle to return her crown without a fight.”

Mina’s huff is nothing short of exasperated, but brushes pleasantly past Jihyo’s ear anyway. “For beings without a speck of magic in their souls, humans put an inexplicable amount of faith in miracles.”

“When you have nothing,” Jihyo says quietly, “there is nowhere else to turn to.”

Six days later, everyone is on edge. 

Minutes before the king and Nayeon are due to show, Sana stands near the pool with Dahyun, and Mina spares a smile at Jihyo before returning to her conversation with Chaeyoung. Momo, meanwhile, directs Jihyo and the others to hide behind a stand of trees at the edge of the clearing. 

Momo’s irises are rounder than the yellow moon above, and she looks over the three of them before stepping in front of Jeongyeon. Jeongyeon watches warily as Momo’s hands begin to glow with softened starlight. Still, Jeongyeon flinches when Momo brings them up to gently cup her cheeks. Momo’s eyes, too, twinkle like the pinpricks in the sky, and then she drops her hands. 

She does the same to Tzuyu, and then to Jihyo. Jihyo’s skin tingles as soon as Momo’s palms meet her face, but the warmth is far from unsettling. Past Momo’s shoulder, Jihyo sees Sana doing the same to Dahyun. Mina has taken to pacing back and forth along the edge of the pool, although her steps are so light that sometimes Jihyo is sure that she is floating.

“What was that?” Jeongyeon asks when Momo steps back again.

Momo thinks for a moment, and then says, “A blessing. It won’t make you invincible, but your surroundings will be more inclined to side with you should the need arise.”

Jeongyeon hums. “I never thought I’d say this, but if a tree were to suddenly scoop me up to save me from an untimely death, I would definitely not complain.”

Chaeyoung, perched on a rock by the poolside, suddenly tenses. “They’re coming.”

Momo disappears in a flash, appearing on the other side of Dahyun just as the clearing brims with an intensely purple glow. Jihyo squints against it, eventually forced to shield her eyes with a hand and peek cautiously through her fingers once she thinks the light has subsided enough.

In the middle of the clearing, Dahyun’s uncle scrambles upright, Nayeon sprawled on the ground a few meters away from him. Sana is beside her in a second, glare blazing like twin suns as she waits for Nayeon to get to her feet. 

The king glances around wildly, taking in Sana and Nayeon to his left, and Momo and Dahyun in front of him. Then Chaeyoung steps out from behind Dahyun, and his eyes widen. “What -- what is this?”

“Uncle.” Dahyun dips her head. “I would hope that you’d remember me, even after all of these years.”

“But you -- you -- Dahyun.” His voice stops working even as his mouth continues to move. Finally, he spits out, “But you died.”

“I didn’t, uncle,” says Dahyun. “And as such, I think you have something that belongs to me.”

The king takes a step back, hands raised. “How did you -- who are these people? How did you magic me here?” He narrows his eyes at Chaeyoung. “You.”

“You have something that belongs to me, as well,” Chaeyoung says mildly. She opens her palm, a bright blue spark jumping across it. “And I would very much like you to stop using it to destroy this kingdom.”

It’s the king who moves first, a fierce red blast exploding from his exposed palms. Chaeyoung’s spark arcs into a swipe of light that barely counters the attack, illuminating the entire clearing so fully that Jihyo flinches away again. 

“Fuck,” Jeongyeon says from the other side of Tzuyu. “Where’s Nayeon?”

“She’s here.” Sana has taken advantage of the brightness to transport herself and Nayeon to their hiding spot. “The four of you,” she says, her urgency something that Jihyo would never associate with the same Sana who had thought it fun to almost push Jihyo into a pool of death, “don’t move.”

Sana sprints back to the middle, vines sprouting from the ground wherever her feet touch down onto the grass. They curl upwards and outwards, twisting themselves in the air before lashing out at the king. Mina is on the opposite side, another bundle of vines emerging from below her. She pushes out with one hand, and the vines whip around suddenly. They knock the king straight towards Sana, whose vines quickly bind his arms to his sides as they wrap around him from head to toe.

“Uncle,” Dahyun shouts. “I don’t want to kill you. If you step down from the throne, everything in the past six years will be forgotten.”

The king barks out a laugh. One of his hands has yet to be restricted, and a snap of his fingers sets all of his binds alight. Sana swiftly severs the vines, and the flames fizzle out before they can travel down to the roots. The king lands on his feet under a rain of ash. He sweeps an arm behind him, incinerating Mina’s vines before they can land another hit.

“Nymphs, I see,” he mutters. His eyes settle on Chaeyoung. “And you.” 

Chaeyoung tilts her head, her taunting smile so wide that it dimples her cheek. She disappears the moment before a flash of lightning sears the grass she had been standing on, and Jihyo almost misses her rematerializing behind the king. He spins around to face her, just in time to catch the fistful of glittering powder she throws in his eyes. 

The king yells, stumbling back as he tries to rid his eyes of the sting. He thrusts a hand out blindly, sending a flare of fire straight at Dahyun. Momo flashes the two of them a few meters to the left, just in time. 

A glowing, crackling blue sphere now surrounds Chaeyoung, wayward sparks occasionally arcing off of the surface. The king finally opens his red-rimmed eyes, growling as he shoots two pillars of fire directly at Chaeyoung. The flames succeed in destroying the sphere, but Chaeyoung emerges unscathed, already summoning another two arcs of blue light in retaliation.

Spell after spell, burst after burst of light -- the magic is cast much too quickly for Jihyo to follow. Even the nymphs look lost, reduced to waiting tensely on the edge of the battle. Dahyun stands helplessly, fists clenched at her sides, and Jihyo can see her shoulders shaking even from twenty meters away.

Then Chaeyoung cries out. The prolonged bursts of brightness finally fade as she lands heavily on the ground. The king throws another red bolt at her, and her body jerks before her limbs fall limp against the grass. Jeongyeon gasps, both hands shooting up to cover her mouth, and Nayeon turns away with her eyes squeezed shut. Tzuyu looks on, unblinking as she stares at Chaeyoung’s unmoving form.

And then, Dahyun -- tiny, righteous Dahyun -- runs up to the king and punches him in the face.

She has evidently thrown her entire weight behind the hit, because she is actually able to knock him to the ground. When he straightens again, his nose is bleeding profusely. 

“Uncle,” Dahyun says, trembling as she stands over him. “What have you done?” 

“I have taken care of a problem,” the king pants. He slowly raises a hand. “And I should have taken care of you a long time ago.” 

A vine breaks out from the ground behind Dahyun, hooking around her ankle. A swift tug sends her onto her back as a crackle of lightning shoots above her, almost singeing the tip of her nose. Then a flurry of vines and tree roots bursts out around the king, trapping his feet and encasing his hands so he can’t so much as move a finger. 

Momo steps up behind Dahyun, helping her to her feet. Across from them, Mina and Sana stand by, hands raised to keep the king rooted. He yells and spits, wrenching with all his might, but the plants stand firm against him. 

Dahyun thanks Momo quietly, and then steps up to her uncle once more. She stares at him for a moment, and then reaches behind her with one hand. Jihyo’s eyes widen as she watches Dahyun pull out a knife from where it had been tucked in her belt. 

“Uncle,” says Dahyun, and Jihyo can hear the tears catching in her throat. “This is your last chance.”

He stills, fixing her with his reddened stare. “Dahyun,” he says, dark and disdainful. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Dahyun’s grip on the knife tightens, her knuckles already white. And then Jihyo steps out from the trees.

“Jihyo,” Mina says immediately. “Get back.”

Jihyo doesn’t answer. She crosses the clearing with even steps, her head clear and calm for the first time in months. She comes to a stop next to Dahyun.

Dahyun turns to her. “Jihyo?”

Jihyo smiles, holding out a hand. “Give me the knife, Dahyun.”

“What?” Dahyun blinks, and then rapidly shakes her head. “No. No, I have to do this.”

“You don’t,” says Jihyo gently. “You shouldn’t take back the throne by shedding blood. So let me be the one to do it for you.”

Dahyun says nothing. She looks down at the knife again, but makes no move towards the king, nor to Jihyo. Jihyo reaches out, cradling Dahyun’s fist in one of her hands while the other carefully pries the fingers off of the handle, one by one.

When Jihyo steps up to Dahyun’s uncle, blade in hand, he stares up at her, wild-eyed. He looks so pitiful then, a shade in soiled royal clothing, and Jihyo understands why it is so hard to end even a life that has ended so many others. 

But she thinks of Nayeon risking her neck time and time again to do what she knows is right, and Jeongyeon constantly feeling so helpless when she is the one who makes sure not a single one of them lacks support, and Tzuyu protecting the entire orphanage with a dogged loyalty when she might be happier living with the birds in the forest. And there is also Chaeyoung, who has already sacrificed too much, and Mina and Sana and Momo waiting at last for the return of their home. 

All of them are standing in this clearing because Dahyun dares to dream beyond reality, and Jihyo will be the one to wrestle with the nightmares necessary to realize it.

“You --” The king never gets the chance to finish, choking on his last words as Jihyo drives the knife into his chest. 

Jihyo’s mind blanks. 

The next thing she knows is Mina’s hold, warm around her shoulders, and the bloody handle still protruding from the body that blurs into her vision. She looks down, her hands stained the same crimson, and finally registers that she is shivering.

“You are brave, Jihyo,” Mina murmurs into her ear, and the honey of her voice soothes the most frayed of Jihyo’s nerves. “You are astoundingly, stupidly brave.” 

“Jihyo.” Dahyun barely gives Mina a chance to release her before she throws her arms around Jihyo, burying her tear-streaked face into Jihyo’s shoulder. “Jihyo, you didn’t have to.”

“Maybe not,” Jihyo manages faintly. She thinks now that maybe she could have convinced the king to look into the pool, or perhaps the nymphs could have simply tossed him into the water, never to rise again. And yet, she is still able to return Dahyun’s hug just as firmly, and the heartfelt smile she gives Dahyun when they step back comes easy. “But I don’t regret it.”

“Chaeyoung.” Jeongyeon, meanwhile, crouches near the conjurer, hands fluttering but afraid to touch. “Is she -- she can’t really be --”

“She’s alright,” says Tzuyu.

Momo glances over, eyebrows raised. “How did you know?”

Tzuyu simply looks at the black cat that slinks out from between the trees. They watch as he pads over to Chaeyoung, lowering his head to sniff near her mouth. Jeongyeon jerks back as Chaeyoung suddenly gasps, chest heaving as she inhales lungfuls of air. The conjurer sits up with some effort, rubbing the back of her head. She smiles at the cat sitting beside her, reaching out to scratch him behind the ear. 

The cat meows, and Jihyo’s eyes widen as she watches his black fur begin to streak with yellow. Seconds later, a fully golden feline stalks back into the forest.

Mina chuckles quietly at Jihyo’s stunned silence. “I’m not sure how many more lives Chaeyoung has left, but this is far from her last one.”

“Dahyun,” Jihyo hears Nayeon say. “What’s the plan now?”

“It’s simple.” Chaeyoung coughs a few times before continuing. “You blame it on me.”

Dahyun’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“You don’t need to start your reign with rumors of treachery,” Chaeyoung reasons. “You will return to the castle, claiming that I was the one who had kidnapped you and made you seem dead all of this time. Your uncle discovered your location and came to rescue you, and unfortunately perished in the battle, but you were able to escape. You can issue warrants for my arrest, send out a mass of wanted posters, and the like. It will all amount to nothing in the end, and you can rule in peace.”

Dahyun shakes her head. “You can’t be alright with this.”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “It’s not as if anyone will ever find me. I was already hiding before all of this, so it won’t disrupt my life in the slightest.”

Dahyun lowers her head, shoulders shaking. Jihyo steps forward when she realizes that Dahyun is on the verge of sobbing. But then the younger girl looks up, eyes watery and resolute. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Chaeyoung offers her a lazy smile. “I look forward to hearing good things about you, your highness.”

They leave Chaeyoung and the nymphs in the forest. The moon is high and Jihyo is sure that it is much past midnight. But fatigue fails to plague them as they walk Dahyun to the castle gates. Nayeon pecks Jeongyeon on the cheek, and then gives Dahyun a quick hug and a wink. “See you inside,” she says, and heads down the street to enter the castle through the servants’ entrance. 

Jeongyeon pulls Dahyun in next. “Don’t forget to visit us,” she says, voice rough. 

Tzuyu joins the hug, bending slightly so she can rest her cheek on the top of Dahyun’s head. “If you run into any birds, don’t be afraid to talk to them. And be nice to all of the dogs and the cats and the horses, even if you are afraid.”

Jihyo wraps her arms around the huddle last. “Long live the queen,” she says, and laughs when the tears well up in Dahyun’s eyes yet again.

The three of them remain in the darkness as Dahyun walks alone up the cobblestone road. She’s maybe fifty meters away from them by the time she reaches the castle’s front gates. But they have no trouble hearing her announcement, loud and clear.

“My name is Dahyun Kim, and I have returned home.”

**V.**

Time stands still even as the river runs. Jihyo doesn’t know at which point the passing days had stopped mattering to her, and she can’t find it anywhere in herself to complain.

“It’s only been a few months,” Mina says on this particular afternoon at their spot on the riverbank, “but the air is already so much clearer.”

Jihyo hums, unwilling to move her head from where it’s nestled in the crook of Mina’s neck. “Dahyun has set regulations on work at the mill, and is looking into returning the town to its original trades while the forest properly restores itself.”

“It sounds quite complicated,” says Mina, waving her feet gently back and forth in the river water.

“Most of the economic policies I’ve heard third-hand through Tzuyu, who heard it second-hand from the sparrows that frequent the castle gardens, so I’m not sure how much of it I actually understand.” Jihyo nudges Mina’s submerged foot with her own.

Mina pinches Jihyo’s side, but it barely stings. “It sounds like I will have to thank her soon. And how is your sleep?” Jihyo opens her mouth to answer, but Mina has already sensed her hesitation. “If you still have night terrors, you should come here, and we can sleep under the stars instead.”

Jihyo laughs. The poisonous, red-rimmed glare she’d refused to flinch away from as she permanently stained the skin of her hands still torments her under the cover of darkness, but they seem far away in Mina’s light. “Do you even need to sleep?”

“I need you to,” says Mina. “You’re not alone in this, Jihyo. You know that you have your family, and you have me.”

“I know,” says Jihyo. But the thought of stargazing with Mina brings something else to the forefront of her mind. “Mina, how old are you?” 

Mina laughs, and the sound trickles in time with the gurgling river. “I thought it was impolite to ask a lady for her age?”

Jihyo huffs. “I was just wondering. Since you’re a nymph, you look like you can’t be older than I am, but maybe you’ve already been alive for centuries.” She kicks her left foot up, watching as the water droplets run down along her skin. “And you’ll live for many centuries more after I’m gone.”

Mina hums, her hand snug on Jihyo’s hip as she pulls the other girl closer. “Nymphs live as long as their homes do, remember?”

Jihyo shifts, the top of her head bumping against the soft edge of Mina’s jaw. “So, you’ll live as long as this forest is alive?”

“Usually,” says Mina. “Unless I find somewhere else.”

“Oh.” Jihyo sits up, although Mina’s finger drawing circles on her thigh keeps her from moving very far. She pauses, and then says, “I hope this forest lives for a very long time, then.”

Mina chuckles again, her head coming down this time to nestle on top of Jihyo’s shoulder. 

Jihyo scoffs. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” says Mina. “I’m just beginning to think that it’s not the forest that will have to live for a very long time.”

“Are you moving?” Jihyo starts to say. But then Mina’s hand is at her cheek, gently guiding Jihyo’s head so that she can see right into Mina’s laughing, river-clear eyes. Jihyo takes a deep breath. “Mina, if you don’t mean what I think you are saying, this is a very cruel thing to be doing to me.”

“Shall I convince you, then?” Mina murmurs. Jihyo’s skin begins to prickle at every point that Mina’s hand presses against her cheek, and then Jihyo is all at once seeing Mina’s eyes while also seeing through them. 

As Mina, Jihyo glimpses herself as a tiny toddler waddling among the apple trees, the ripe fruit she’s clutching in both hands almost as large as her beaming face. Mina has always been fond of children, and only occasionally pranks the two who hold hands and peck each other’s cheeks by making apples fall on their heads at inopportune moments.

But imagine Mina’s surprise when years later, the apple-wielding toddler shows up in the same, now obliterated orchard, a pale shivering girl who claims to be the princess by her side. Mina is perhaps most curious about Jihyo and how she offers herself as a shield to Dahyun when she herself is shaking more than the windswept leaves overhead.

It’s winter when Mina truly realizes the depth of her curiosity, on the banks of the river rushing in tandem with Jihyo’s pledge to committing treason and to restoring the forest -- and to Mina. This is when she feels a warmth stir inside of her that she hasn’t felt in a time too long to count. She is sure that if Jihyo had been a nymph, she would have been born from a willow, not above bending to protect those she holds closely behind her weeping branches.

When they kiss in the springtime, Mina knows immediately that it’s Jihyo who has gifted her a thousand new colors. And as they spiral further into each other with the summer heat, Mina is wary even as she submits to the constant tugging in her chest where a heart is not supposed to take root. It leaves Mina wandering the forest restlessly in the nights after Dahyun reclaims the kingdom, and she wonders if she is imagining every toss and turn in Jihyo’s sleep. 

Jihyo blinks. Mina has drawn back slightly, giving Jihyo room to recover and space to see her: devastatingly beautiful and so achingly warmhearted, with her sun-blonde hair and eyes that swirl with every shade of Jihyo’s soul.

“Mina,” Jihyo breathes into the quiet between them. “If I step out of this forest, would you come with me?”

“There is no other place I could be,” Mina says, and the finality of her promise settles on their heads as if they have just been crowned.

“I’ll live a hundred years for you,” Jihyo murmurs swiftly, leaning closer. “Or two hundred, five hundred -- a thousand.” Mina’s eyes crinkle more with each new number, and Jihyo knows exactly how ridiculous she sounds. So when Mina laughs, she does too, kissing in between their every gasp for breath.

Mina tastes like apples and smells of pine, and the two of them refuse to stop giggling even long after Jihyo’s count has reached infinity.

**Author's Note:**

> i meant this fic to be ~6k words but look what happened haha... thank you for making it this far!! i am usually friendly @moonrise31


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